


fly away to heal my broken spirit (there might be peace on the other side)

by OsleyaKomWonkru



Series: Hopes for Season Six [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Finding Peace, Gen, Healing, Hope, Late Night Radio Conversations with Raven, Octavia-centric, Overcoming Fear, POV Octavia Blake, Post-Episode: s05e13 Damocles Part 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season 6 Speculation, Solitude, Symbolism, Trigedasleng, journeys, letting go of the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 20:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17884832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsleyaKomWonkru/pseuds/OsleyaKomWonkru
Summary: As soon as the transport ship dropped her on the new planet, Octavia ran.She knew that running away never solved anything, but she wasn’t running away. She was running towards.Towards peace. Towards healing. Towards hope.And everything about it felt right.She didn’t know for how long, or even how far - she ran until her lungs burned, and her breathing was getting laboured, but she didn’t stop, not until a river loomed up in front of her and she dropped her pack on the shore, falling to her knees in the shallows and drinking until she couldn’t drink anymore.She waded in a bit further, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings, making sure that there weren’t any creatures like the river snake that had attacked her their first day on Earth. But the river was clear of all but the tiniest fish, and she submerged herself, holding her breath until her lungs burned again, and then surfacing with a loud splash, breathing in the forest air.Finally, for the first time in years, Octavia feltalive.





	fly away to heal my broken spirit (there might be peace on the other side)

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in my "Hopes for Season Six" 'verse, though I'm sure that it won't happen as extensively as I would hope. I do hope, at least, that Octavia will be able to take some time away from the others to try and figure her shit out without everyone glaring at her and judging her, and that people like Raven and Niylah can be a support for her to do that.
> 
> Some Trigedasleng translations:
> 
> Ai lukot - my friend  
> Jus nou drein jus daun - Blood must not have blood
> 
> The rest is translated inline, to make it easier and to avoid spoilers. Any mistakes are mine, I had to create some words myself based on established Trig grammar and structure rules, so I hope they work!

The boom of the atmosphere was louder than it had been on the dropship, but the _Eligius IV_ transport was better built to handle it. Octavia took a deep breath, ready to finally, _finally,_ get back to the ground, to a lush green earth, to the forest, to everything that represented freedom.

It had taken a number of stern words from Raven to Bellamy and the rest of adventure squad when they’d returned after a month on the ground, but no sign of any people, to let her and Octavia on the next trip down.

Bellamy still hadn’t talked to Octavia. They’d exchanged a few glances after the transport had returned, but each one of them was more agonized than the next. Jackson and Miller told her that they’d told Bellamy the truth of their story, and that he was still having trouble processing it, trying to understand. Raven knew the story too, shared one night after too much algae moonshine.

How Raven, someone that Octavia hadn’t really known that well, was more sympathetic to her story than the brother she’d known her entire life, Octavia didn’t know. But it just made what she had to do when they got to the ground easier.

Raven had been sad, in her stoic tearful way, when Octavia told her she was leaving the night before they got on the transport, but she understood. They’d bonded during their month together on the _Eligius IV,_ but Raven knew Octavia needed time alone, away from the judgmental gaze of her brother and the physical reminders of everything she’d done, to be able to find herself again.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Raven had said, sniffing away her tears, pressing a small electronic device into her hand. “I figured you’d go. So I made this for you.”

“What is it?”

“Super basic radio. Can’t talk, but you can send Morse code. There’s a code schematic on the back. Solar panel on the front so you can charge it. Check in every so often so I know you’re not dead.”

“Thank you.”

Octavia had also confided her plans to Niylah, knowing that she wouldn’t betray her confidence. After six years of being her confidante in the bunker, Niylah knew her like few others did.

“Go. Find your peace, _ai lukot.”_ Niylah had said softly, running her hand over Octavia’s cheek with a tender touch. “You’ll know where to find us when you’re ready.”

The transport landed gently, much more gently than the dropship, and Octavia was out of her seat and off to the door as fast as she could, Raven and Niylah close behind her.

It was just like when the dropship landed - the door opened with a hiss, and Octavia took in a deep breath, enjoying the fragrant scent of flowers on the breeze and the _life_ that surrounded them.

She heard more people approaching down the hallway, and knew there wasn’t a moment to lose. With a quick glance and wave back to Raven and Niylah, she jumped down from the transport door and disappeared into the forest before anyone could follow.

Then Octavia ran.

She didn’t know for how long, or even how far - she ran until her lungs burned, and her breathing was getting laboured, but she didn’t stop, not until a river loomed up in front of her and she dropped her pack on the shore, falling to her knees in the shallows and drinking until she couldn’t drink anymore.

She waded in a bit further, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings, making sure that there weren’t any creatures like the river snake that had attacked her their first day on Earth. But the river was clear of all but the tiniest fish, and she submerged herself, holding her breath until her lungs burned again, and then surfacing with a loud splash, breathing in the forest air.

Finally, for the first time in years, Octavia felt _alive._

When she tired of the water, she waded back out to the sandy shore, lying down on the beach, feeling the suns on her face, letting them dry her hair and clothes. She filled her water flask, and though she did plan on sticking to the river as she continued her travels, she knew it was important to be prepared for emergencies. Her pack had a week’s worth of rations, and the next day she resolved to start watching for animals and seeing what they ate, to get an idea as to what could be safe.

She could eat the animals, too, she supposed, but the thought of eating flesh turned her stomach. It was much too soon for that.

Octavia looked around, trying to figure out a plan on how to mark this place where she’d joined the river, so that she knew where she’d have to go to find her way back to the transport, if - _when_ \- she decided to join them again.

When she saw the big flat rocks a bit further up the beach, she knew precisely how.

It took some work to dig them out of the sand, but Octavia worked steadily, whispering Luna’s mantra to Raven under her breath over and over again.

_“Ai giv ai op… gon nemiyon… kom lanik-de.”_  
(“I give myself… to the miracle… of the sea.”)

She built a stone figure in the image of those on the coast where they’d signaled to Luna. Placing the last one on top - a smaller rock she’d retrieved from the river - Octavia recited Floukru’s death blessing.

_“Kom woda yu gyon op, gon woda yu kom daun.”_ She whispered. _“Kom chilnes yu na ban sishou-de au, Luna kom Floukru. Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim.”_  
(“From water you were born, to water you return.) (In peace may you leave the shore, Luna kom Floukru. May we meet again.”)

Then, as an affirmation to herself: _“Ai na hon yu chilnes op.”_  
(“I will find your peace.”)

The suns were setting, and Octavia prepared a small fire, deciding to rest by her stone figure for the night. She pulled Raven’s radio out of her pack, and peered at the code on the back, figuring out what she needed to send Raven a simple message.

Four short taps. One short one long. One short two long one short. One short two long one short again. One long one short two long. She repeated this message five times.

_HAPPY._

She waited for a response, to know if Raven received it. 

The message came through a few minutes later, Octavia watching the code carefully, listening to it repeat as she figured out what it meant.

_YOU DESERVE IT._

Octavia smiled, pulling her blanket out of her pack to wrap around her shoulders, as the chill of the night began to rise, and resting back against the base rock.

For the first time in a long time, she was alone, but she didn’t feel lonely. 

She heard the birds in the forest, the water tumbling over the rocks in the river, the howl of some animal she didn’t recognize across on the other side. For one drowsy moment, Octavia wondered if she should have reconsidered her decision to run off into the wild with no weapons save for a small knife that was buried deep in her pack, but she knew in the long run, not having them was what she needed. They’d been her solace for too long. She was determined to find a life that didn’t involve fighting.

What she had to offer the world that wasn’t fighting and death, she didn’t know yet, but until she found something, she’d explore, and see what this new world had to offer her.

* * *

Octavia woke up gradually, slowly coming to consciousness after a night of peaceful dreams, a rarity in the past six years, but she hoped they would become more common as time went on. She kicked sand over the smoldering remains of her campfire, shoved her blanket in her pack, and headed off downstream, following the river as it wove its way through the forest.

She kept an eye out for animals, and when she spotted what looked almost like a rabbit from Earth, she climbed a tree to keep out of its way and get a wider view of where it went and what it ate. It stopped by a bush with some berries that it nibbled on, and a bit further on, nosed around at a raised pile of sand, before hopping off out of view.

Climbing down from the tree, Octavia approached the bush that the not-rabbit had eaten berries from, and picked one, looking at it from all angles. It was mostly round, a dark blue colour, and when she broke it open, it was still the same colour inside. She licked it, watching for any warning signs that Lincoln had taught her - he’d taught her a lot about surviving in the wild, though she didn’t know how many of them would apply on this new planet - but it seemed safe so far. Satisfied enough with her findings, she popped it into her mouth, enjoying the sweet tang on her tongue, and swallowed. If it didn’t make her sick in the next few hours, she’d gather the rest of the berries and take them with her.

She turned her attention to the raised pile of sand, knowing that it was probably insects, and while she wasn’t thrilled about it, the idea of eating insects for protein was still more appealing than flesh or fish.

Octavia had never seen insects like this before - they moved along on more legs than she could count, though the legs were short and bodies small. Fishing around in her pack, she grabbed one of the vials she’d taken from Medical, and snatched up one of the insects, dropping it inside. She got three more, dropping them in on top of the first, and then stoppered the vial, shoving it back in her pack. She’d test them later if the berries checked out first.

Getting back up, Octavia noticed that the knees of her dark pants were stained with the sand, a different consistency from that on the beach - more clay than sand, she realized now. She rubbed a bit between her fingers, and it gave her an idea.

She took a handful of the clay back to the river’s edge, where the beach was sheltered by black rocky cliffs littered with small alcoves, which back on the old Earth may have been of volcanic origin, if she remembered the books she’d read as a child correctly. What may have formed them here, light years away, Octavia had no idea, but it would serve as an ideal surface for what she had planned.

Lincoln had been the artist, not her, but it only seemed fitting, now - yesterday she’d honoured Luna, today it would be Lincoln. Each day along her journey, Octavia would remember the dead, honour them, and remember the lessons that they taught her.

For Luna, she’d built one of the sentinels that had guarded the entrance to her domain, and remembered her lessons of peace that she hadn’t yet been ready for.

For Lincoln, she painted the alcove walls with images of their life together, from their first meeting by the light of the signal flares to his death by the walls of Arkadia, and remembered what he taught her about unconditional love, unity and sacrifice.

For Ilian, she replanted a small tree whose roots had been exposed, hanging precariously off the edge of a cliff, and remembered how life was cyclical, and what she did today would help generations in the future.

For Jasper, she wove a rope of vines to swing to the other side of the river, and remembered that loss could bring out your worst demons, but peace came when choosing to live life on your own terms.

For Monty, she found a scorched patch of the earth, where a fire or lightning had raged weeks earlier, and tilled the soil, planting the seeds she’d saved from an apple-like tree she’d found a few days earlier, and remembered that if others wouldn’t grant you peace, you had to take it yourself. 

For Ethan, she saved a young not-rabbit that had been attacked by some larger creature, cleaning its wound and caring for it until it was able to hop away on its own, and remembered how the first victim that the bunker claimed was innocence.

For Jaha. For Roan. For Lexa. For Cooper, Maya, Gina, Harper, Fio, Atom, her mother. With each new dawn, Octavia committed herself to remembering those that she’d lost along the way.

For each member of Wonkru who had died in the bunker, by her hand or by her orders - she built, she wove, she painted, she created. She carved poles with the symbols of all 13 clans, driving them into the ground next to the river, plus a fourteenth for Wonkru, and on each she carved the names of all those who had died. She remembered them all, and honoured them.

Day by day, Octavia healed.

Some days were harder than others.

After finishing her mural to Lincoln, she spent three days and nights sobbing, releasing all of the grief that she’d kept pent up for over six years, as she hadn’t let herself mourn since the war had never been over.

After the not-rabbit hopped away, Octavia’s sorrow over Ethan’s death was replaced by rage, and she spent a week alternating between screaming herself hoarse and meditating after tying herself to a tree to keep herself from running back to the transport ship to demand Kane’s death in payment for the hundreds of Wonkru lives lost.

_“Jus nou drein jus daun.”_ Octavia whispered hoarsely, as wind from a sudden storm whipped through her hair and rain lashed her parched lips. _“Jus nou drein jus daun.”_

Some days it was easier to believe than others.

Each death Octavia honoured, she marked on her skin, using the same techniques Lincoln had when he’d given her her first tattoo on her right shoulder, years ago now. Day by day, dot by dot, a new pattern began to take shape on her left shoulder.

She lost count of how many months went by as she kept following the river, kept building, kept creating, kept planting. But she was still no closer to finding who _she_ was among the ghosts she put to rest.

She brought it up one evening as she chatted with Raven, long ago having memorized the codes for each letter, no longer needing the code sheet.

_STILL DON’T KNOW WHO I AM._

_YOU’RE OCTAVIA._

_BUT WHO IS OCTAVIA?_

_REMEMBER WHO YOU’RE NOT ANYMORE. WHO YOU ARE COMES AFTER THAT._

This gave her an idea.

* * *

The next day, Octavia came across a clearing that was perfect for her next mission.

She’d lingered in many places over the course of her journey, but she knew this one would take even longer due to the lengthy preparations it would involve. The chilly nights began to turn into chilly mornings and evenings too, and she knew winter was coming. A winter that she couldn’t weather in the simple clothing she’d absconded with from the ship months earlier, all of which was starting to become threadbare from wear and tear.

It was time to hunt.

Raven had gone to Echo for instructions on how to build a bow, and to Niylah for information on how to tan animal skins and cure meat, details transmitted painstakingly to Octavia over the radio over the course of several nights.

On the edges of her clearing, Octavia began to prepare. Moving the large rocks was difficult, but she created the bases for the rudimentary buildings she needed, which she finished off with felled trees and filled the cracks with the yellow clay that was ubiquitous in these forests.

They weren’t elegant, but they were hers, and they would do.

Octavia built her bow, needing to scrap her work three times before she was satisfied. It took some practice to master, but like all weapons that made it into her hands, it grew familiar.

She tried to ignore how good that familiar felt.

Her hair rebraided for what felt like the eleventh time, she knew she couldn’t delay anymore. It was either freeze to death in the months to come, or hunt.

Even when she hadn’t wanted to be, she was a survivor. And now she had all of the reasons on this new world to live.

Octavia knew she needed to lure in large prey, and so first she headed down to the river with a net that she’d woven. There she caught five fish, and brought them back into the forest, gutting them and scattering the guts deeper into the forest, leaving a trail that led towards her clearing, where she put one fish to fry on her campfire, while the others she left raw and in a pile off on the opposite side of the clearing from her buildings.

Her bow by her side, just in case her lure worked faster than she hoped, she sat by the campfire, watching the fish roast, hoping that she could do it. That she could eat flesh again. She hadn’t been bothered by the insects, but fish and then larger animals… at least fish had a different texture to mammals. This would be her first test.

Once the fish was roasted, Octavia pulled it off the fire, tugging off the skin and crumbling a bit of the meat in her hand. She didn’t dwell on it, _couldn’t_ dwell on it, and dumped the handful in her mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing.

The memories of the Dark Year tried to press in on her, but the texture was different. The colour was different. The place was different. _Everything_ was different. She could do this.

Bit by bit, Octavia ate the rest of the fish, each bite getting easier, leaving the skin and any remaining little bones she picked out, consigning them to the fire. She breathed out a sigh of relief when it was done.

But now it was really time to hunt.

Octavia took her bow and headed into the forest near where she’d left the fish, climbing into one of the trees.

And she waited.

She knew she’d been working in this part of the forest long enough that animals could have been scared away by her construction work, but after a number of quiet days where she worked with the bow, she hoped that they’d be curious enough to come back again, especially with the lure of the fish waiting. She waited through the night, ears alert, as many animals hunted during this time.

Finally, as morning began to dawn, she was rewarded. 

Octavia heard it before she saw it - a large lumbering creature, with dense white and black fur, making its way along the trails of fish entrails she’d left, honing in on its prize of fish on the edge of the clearing.

As it started to eat, Octavia made her move. Her arrow rang true, catching the creature through the head, and it slumped over.

She watched for further signs of movement as she climbed down from her tree, knife at the ready, but there were none.

_“Yu gonplei ste odon.”_ Octavia whispered, running a hand over the dense fur. _“Mochof gon yu givnes. Oyun gon omon.”_  
(“Your fight is over.”)(“Thank you for your sacrifice. All of you for all of me.”)

Now she had work to do.

She dragged her kill into the clearing, where by the rising light she was able to get a better look at the creature. It looked different from all of the animals she’d read about in her books growing up, having something of the shape and gait of a bear, but the striped patterns and facial structure of a large cat. It had a bit of a mane, though Octavia wasn’t certain if it was just something it was growing for the winter ahead, or if it was something it had all year round.

Resolved to use all parts of the creature, Octavia followed Niylah’s instructions to the letter over the following days. She saved the blood, removed the pelt, kept the brains for the pelt tanning process, set the bones aside to clean and dry before she could turn them into tools, prepared most of the meat for drying in her smokehouse, and carved some for immediate consumption.

That was the next test.

Night was falling as Octavia put a piece of meat to roast over the fire, watching it as the flames did their work, turning it from the gelatinous red that had made her gag several times while preparing the meat, looking too much like the cube reductions of human flesh they’d eaten during the Dark Year, to a lighter brown colour that began to calm her nerves.

She still didn’t like the idea, but this animal had died for her, and she would honour it, as she’d honoured other deaths in the past weeks and months.

_“Oyun gon omon.”_ Octavia said again, removing the meat from the fire and letting it cool so that she could hold it in her hands. _“Oyun gon omon.”_  
(“All of you for all of me.”)

She took her first bite.

Her first impulse was to spit it back out, something about it tasting _too_ familiar, like that taste of human flesh that had lingered in her mouth for years even after the Dark Year was over. But she forced herself to chew, to swallow, to eat the entire piece of meat that was in her hands.

By the time Octavia was finished, she was shaking and covered in sweat, tears rolling down her face, fighting against the memories that were flashing through her mind. All of the blood. All of the death. The cafeteria, the gun heavy in her hand as she ended people’s lives. _Her_ people’s. The screams of her people dying in the gorge, Eligius’ weapons no match for them.

She ran from the fire pit, into the small hovel she’d built for sleeping, burying herself under her blanket, reaching blindly for the radio. But her fingers were still shaking so much that whatever message she transmitted to Raven was probably incoherent.

_WHAT’S WRONG?_ Came the return message.

Octavia took some deep breaths, whispering Luna’s mantra, trying to calm herself, or at least her fingers, so that she could send a coherent message instead of gibberish. Her mind still swirled in chaos.

_ATE MEAT FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE..._

_HOW DID THAT MAKE YOU FEEL?_

_CAN’T STOP THE MEMORIES._

_JUST BREATHE. LET THEM PASS OVER YOU. BREATHE AND LET THEM GO. AI GIV AI OP GON NEMIYON KOM LANIK-DE. AI GIV AI OP GON NEMIYON KOM LANIK-DE. AI GIV AI OP GON NEMIYON KOM LANIK-DE._

This wasn’t the first time that Raven had sent Luna’s mantra over the radio, but this time Octavia needed it more than any other as she took long breaths, trying to do what Raven told her, releasing the memories with each breath, listening to the comforting tap-tap-tap of Raven sending the words to her from who knows how far away now.

She didn’t know how many hours passed until she finally felt calm, reaching for the radio again, knowing that Raven must be exhausted at this point too, having never stopped repeating the message.

_THANK YOU._

And finally fell into sleep.

* * *

Octavia awoke the next morning with no memories of her dreams. She’d feared the worst, that she’d spend the night tormented by the Dark Year, but the previous day, the previous weeks and months and years, had done that enough. The ghosts were beginning to quiet.

She felt free, in a way she had yet to feel since landing on the ground.

The past was beginning to stay in the past where it belonged. And now that her preparations for winter were underway, she could return to the mission she’d set herself when first choosing this clearing.

Octavia crawled out of her hovel to find the day dawning warm and bright, the temperature a welcome change from the growing chill of the past weeks, though she didn’t expect that it would last. But it would be perfect for her day’s mission and she resolved to make the most of it.

It was time to say goodbye to each of the girls she used to be, and, much as she had for the dead along the way, honour them and put them to rest.

In the centre of the clearing, she built five small fire pits in a circle, and placed five large rocks on the inside of that circle, in line with the fire pits. The ground and the fire, the sacred death rites for Skaikru and Trikru, both a part of her soul.

In each fire pit, she placed a token.

For the Girl Under the Floor, a scrap of a book, the stories she’d grown up with her only way to escape from her confinement in her family’s quarters on the Ark.

For the Sky Girl, the picture of the dropship from Lincoln’s book, which she still carried with her, and had made additions to herself over the past months, of the world she’d encountered.

For Skairipa, a representation of the Flame, the weapon that came back over and over again, that people would still fight and die for.

For Osleya, medallions of the 13 clans that she’d carved from wood and strung together with sinew from her kill, for one of the last moments on the old Earth that she’d felt hope.

For Blodreina, a carving of the two-faced Roman god Janus, the god of beginnings and endings, the mask of the dual nature she’d needed to cultivate in the bunker to make sure her people survived.

Taking her knife, she cut the last few inches off five of her braids, placing the braids in turn next to each of the tokens. She built up kindling in each of the pits around the tokens and braids, preparing them for the fire to come.

In the middle of the circle, Octavia placed five bowls - one of ashes from the fire, one of dirt from the forest, and one of water from the river. The others remained empty for the time being, awaiting their own purposes.

Once she’d placed the rest of the necessities for her ritual in the centre of the circle, Octavia went down to the river, stripping off her clothes and submerging herself, washing off the grime and dirt and animal blood that had accumulated on her skin over the past days. She worked her hair loose from its braids, letting it flow over her shoulders, almost down to her waist now, save for the places where she’d cut her braids earlier. She washed her clothes and left them on the rocks to dry, returning to her circle in the centre of the clearing naked.

Octavia stood in the centre of the circle, raising her face to the sky, breathing in deep, feeling the warm air around her.

_“Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom skai-de, weron ai set of.”_  
(“I give myself to the miracle of the sky, where I was born.”)

She knelt, and traced each of her tattoos with the water.

_“Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom woda-de, weron ai breiknes fig au.”_  
(“I give myself to the miracle of the water, where I found freedom.”)

She traced her tattoos again, this time with the dirt.

_“Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom graun-de, weron ai ona lok daun.”_  
(“I give myself to the miracle of the earth, where I was locked beneath.”)

A third time, this time running the ash over the lines drawn by the dirt and water.

_“Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom faya-de, weron ai na set of nodotaim.”_  
(“I give myself to the miracle of the fire, where I will be reborn.”)

Closing her eyes, she sat down, making a tiny nick in her right wrist, letting her blood drip drop by drop into an empty bowl.

_“Ai woda klin laudnes-de kom foutaim.”_  
(“I cleanse the pain of the past.”)

Until night fell, Octavia sat in her circle, whispering the five phrases over and over again. _Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom skai-de, weron ai set of. Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom woda-de, weron ai breiknes fig au. Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom graun-de, weron ai ona lok daun. Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom faya-de, weron ai na set of nodotaim. Ai woda klin laudnes-de kom foutaim._

When the chill of twilight swept over her bare skin, she opened her eyes and got to her feet. It was time.

Octavia picked up her knife, holding the blade in the fire of the torch beside her, until it glowed red and she pressed the hot blade to her wrist, cauterizing the nick with a sizzle. Enough blood had ebbed into her bowl over the course of the day for her purposes.

She dipped her hand into the bowl of her blood, coating it, and pressed it against the first rock, in front of the fire pit for the Girl Under the Floor, and then to her own throat. With her other hand, she picked up the torch and set fire to that fire pit.

_“Ai biyo leidon kom Gada ona Flau. Kom laudnes kom steltnes, ai breik au.”_  
(“I say goodbye to the Girl under the Floor. From the pain of secrecy, I am free.”)

She coated her hand in blood again, pressing it to the second rock, then over her heart, and set the second pit on fire.

_“Ai biyo leidon kom Skaigada. Kom laudnes kom dropnes, ai breik au.”_  
(“I say goodbye to the Sky Girl. From the pain of loss, I am free.”)

The third handprint she pressed to the scar on the left side of her abdomen.

_“Ai biyo leidon kom Skairipa. Kom laudnes kom fleimnes, ai breik au.”_  
(“I say goodbye to Skairipa. From the pain of rage, I am free.”)

The fourth handprint she pressed to the scar on her left bicep.

_“Ai biyo leidon kom Osleya. Kom laudnes kom jobnes, ai breik au.”_  
(“I say goodbye to Osleya. From the pain of duty, I am free.”)

The fifth and final handprint she pressed to one side of her face.

_“Ai biyo leidon kom Blodreina. Kom laudnes kom floshnes, ai breik au.”_  
(“I say goodbye to Blodreina. From the pain of destruction, I am free.”)

Driving the torch back into the ground, Octavia knelt again, breathing heavily as she watched the fires blaze all around her, taking the symbols of her pain away, reducing them to ash and releasing them into the earth and sky. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked to the sky while driving her fingers into the ground.

_“Ai laik Okteivia Bleik. Non na tag in gon ai.”_ She shouted to the heavens.  
(“I am Octavia Blake. No one defines me.”)

Her body trembled, though she was warm with the fires surrounding her, and she began to recite her new mantra to ground herself.

_“Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom skai-de, weron ai set of. Ai woda klin laudnes-de kom foutaim. Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom woda-de, weron ai breiknes fig au. Ai laik Okteivia Bleik, non na tag in gon ai. Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom graun-de, weron ai ona lok daun. Ai woda klin laudnes-de kom foutaim. Ai giv ai op gon nemiyon kom faya-de, weron ai set of nodotaim. Ai laik Okteivia Bleik, non na tag in gon ai.”_

Octavia knelt there all night, reciting the words over and over again, watching as the fires slowly burned down, no fuel left to feed them. As the dawn rose, she prepared her tattooing kit, and gathered the ashes from each of the five fires into separate vials, which she put in order in front of herself. She prepared the rest of the tattoo ink in her remaining bowl, and divided it among the five vials. Finally she was ready.

They were small, just symbols, each tattoo made from the ashes of her old life, in a circle on the inside of her left wrist.

For the Girl Under the Floor, an open book, to represent the stories of her childhood.

For the Sky Girl, Lincoln’s tattoo, to remember the love that they had shared.

For Skairipa, the hand of Azgeda, to honour the king whose weapon she’d been.

For Osleya, the emblem of the Coalition, to recall the unity her victory had inspired.

For Blodreina, the symbol of Wonkru, to never forget the drastic measures she’d taken to ensure the survival of the human race.

Any ink that remained, Octavia rinsed out in the bowl of water. When the vials were clean, she took all of the bowls down to the river, rinsing them out one by one, ending with the one with water, watching the remaining ash and ink swirl away into the current, letting go of the last of the tokens of her past.

_“Ai woda klin laudnes-de kom foutaim.”_ Octavia whispered, diving into the river.  
(“I cleanse the pain of the past.”)

The water was frigid this early in the morning, but she persevered and scrubbed the bloody handprints from her body, and emerged clean, drying herself off with her t-shirt and dressing in the remaining clothes that she’d left to dry by the river the previous day.

It was over.

Overcome with exhaustion after her day long vigil, Octavia stumbled up the riverbank and barely made it into her hovel before collapsing into a deep sleep.

* * *

_Octavia stood alone on a hilltop, looking to the valley below. Behind her, a forest swirling in winter storms. Ahead of her, warmth and sunlight streaming down on a bustling town, a market in full swing in the square, with all of the gifts of the earth for sale._

_The caw of a seagull came from her right, and she turned to see the sparkling sea, ships bobbing among the waves. The growl of a large cat came from her left, and there she saw a wide open plain, animals of many species roaming free._

_She heard the hiss of mechanical transport, and looked up to see the transport ship hovering above her, and her feet left the ground, a force trying to pull her up to the ship._

_“No!” Octavia screamed, fighting against the force. “No! I am not going back to the sky. The ground is my home.”_

_She fought her way free from the force, and landed back on the ground with a loud crash, though her footing itself was gentle. The ripple effect of her landing swept out across the vistas surrounding her, shaking them all with the force of it._

_For a moment, the whole world stopped._

_And just as suddenly, it started again. The world was not bothered by her landing. The world was welcoming her home._

* * *

Octavia came to in late afternoon, the curiosity of her dream driving her to wakefulness so that she could analyze it and understand what it was telling her.

Her greatest fear now was being taken back to the sky, of that she was sure. After months alone in the wilderness, Octavia knew she could never bear being confined again, be it in the sky, under the ground or in any other way.

She needed to be free.

But what of the rest of the dream? Octavia contemplated the different elements while she worked on her pelts and tended to her smokehouse. So many different parts of a world, did they even all exist on this planet? She hadn’t see any signs of human civilization in her journey, nor had the others, from what Raven had told her. They hadn’t roamed as far from the transport as she had, that she knew, but they had expanded their exploration radius to within a week’s walk of the transport.

Bellamy’s team had been the one to find the early days of her work along the river. Luna’s sentinel, Lincoln’s alcoves. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, and Raven hadn’t been able to offer any insight on what Bellamy’s thoughts had been. 

Her work done for the day, she retired to her campfire, staring into the flames, trying to understand what the future would hold. What her dream was telling her.

_I HAD A DREAM._ She tapped out to Raven, out of ideas, hoping the other girl could help.

_WHAT DID IT TELL YOU?_

_THERE’S SO MUCH POTENTIAL AND BEAUTY IN THIS WORLD. I WANT TO SEE IT ALL. BUT I DON’T KNOW MY PLACE IN IT._

_MAYBE THAT IS YOUR PLACE._

_COME AGAIN?_

_SEEING IT ALL._

_THAT’S A JOB?_

_IT WAS CENTURIES AGO BEFORE OUR WORLD ENDED. WE’RE ON A NEW ONE NOW, A WORLD THAT WE KNOW NOTHING ABOUT. SO HELL YEAH IT’S A JOB IF YOU WANT IT. YOU’VE ALREADY SEEN SO MUCH MORE OF THIS WORLD THAN THE REST OF US HAVE._

_JEALOUS?_

_SOMETIMES. BUT I LIKE MY CREATURE COMFORTS. A ROOF OVER MY HEAD. ALL OF MY GEAR. IT’S TOO HEAVY TO CARRY AROUND. YOU FIND THE COOL PLACES AND LET ME KNOW WHERE THEY ARE._

Octavia hesitated for a moment before tapping out her next message.

_I FEEL BAD FOR NOT WANTING TO COME BACK._

_YOU HAVE TO DO WHAT’S RIGHT FOR YOU, NOT FOR ANYONE ELSE._

_BUT I FEEL LIKE IF I DON’T, PEOPLE WILL THINK IT IS BECAUSE I DON’T FEEL LIKE FACING THEM. THAT I’M STILL HUNG UP ON THE PAST._

_ARE YOU?_

_NO. NOT ANYMORE. AT FIRST I WAS, BUT NOW - NOW I’M LOOKING TO THE FUTURE THAT I WANT._

The radio was silent for awhile. Octavia began to think that Raven had gone away, that she wouldn’t respond, but then a response came through.

_DO YOU WANT MY OPINION?_

_I KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO GIVE IT TO ME ANYWAY._

_COMING BACK DOESN’T MEAN STAYING. LET US SEE THE NEW YOU._

_MAYBE._

_THINK ABOUT IT._

* * *

Octavia stayed in her clearing with her buildings for a few weeks more as she finished her pelts and hides, creating her new wardrobe. Her dried meat and fermented fruit stores would be enough to last her through much of the winter, though she packed her bow along as well, in case she needed to hunt again. Frost laced the ground most mornings, winter wasn’t far away.

Part of her wondered if she should just stay here over the winter, but a larger part didn’t want to linger, not in this place where she’d put her last ghosts to rest. To be truly free, she needed to keep moving.

Her pack ready and waiting, she made one final visit to the centre of the clearing, and the graveyard of her old life.

She rested her hand on each of the stones in turn, where her handprints of blood still stained the rock.

_“Yu gonplei ste odon, Gada ona Flau. Skaigada. Skairipa. Osleya. Blodreina. Ai biyo leidon kom oyon. Ai soujon kigon feva.”_  
(“Your fight is over, Girl under the Floor. Sky Girl. Skairipa. Osleya. Blodreina. I say goodbye to all of you. My journey continues on.”)

Octavia shouldered her pack and walked away, not looking back.

* * *

A few weeks later, winter was truly in full swing, but still Octavia didn’t want to stop and ride it out. Not even when her river finally hit the sea, and the coastal winds buffeted her as she continued her journey along the beach.

At the next river, she turned inland again, trudging up into mountains, crossing the river at an iced over portion, and continuing up over the next mountain.

That’s when she saw it in the valley below. Just like in her dream, but bigger, much bigger than she’d ever imagined.

Octavia dropped her pack and dug out her radio, daring to take off her gloves for a moment to send a message to Raven, just one single word.

_CITY._

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so... what will Octavia find here? That's the question isn't it? But I love the idea of Octavia being the first one to meet the people on the new planet, a good parallel to her being the first to have real contact with the Grounders in season 1.
> 
> Title is from "I Am Not Nothing" and "Don’t Think Just Run" by Beth Crowley, both songs that I think fit Octavia so well at this juncture in her life. I recommend checking them out!


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